“I can try.” Vandler straightened from the crouch he’d fallen into at the first hint of danger. “You, magician,” he said, loud and clear.
The boy, whose coppery hair was mostly plaited and decorated with feathers and bones, stared at Vandler. “Yes, mage?” he said, in accented though understandable Britlingen.
“He can speak our language,” Clovache said. That was significant and strange. Normally, only the people who hired Britlingens could speak with them, another piece of mage-work.
“I can speak your language. So can she.” The young man pointed at the tall woman. “My father taught me,” the boy said, haltingly. “My mother didn’t know...” He hesitated for a long moment. Clearly, he was about to lie to someone. “She believes you have come to steal him.”
There was a lot to chew over in that sentence. The safest answer was “Maybe,” but Batanya didn’t think anyone would be satisfied with that.
“We don’t know who we were to see here,” she said, which was the most diplomatic answer she could think of. There followed ten seconds of everyone wanting to stand down but no one wanting to be the first. Just in case.
“Let us talk,” the tall woman said. Her accent was much heavierthan her son’s. “I promise your safety. On my son’s head.” She repeated herself in her own tongue, turning to look at the war party.
The war party looked relieved.
“I’m lowering the shield,” Vandler said. “If you believe her? I do.”
“Me, too,” Batanya said.
Vandler lowered his hands with a sigh of relief. He was bleeding from his left arm, Batanya noticed. Grazed by a spear before he got the shield up, looked like.
“Why have you come here?” asked the tall woman. The young man was very anxious to hear the answer to this, Batanya noted.
“We sent a team here to answer a distress beacon,” Batanya said. “As soon as they arrived, they were set upon and killed or injured. Their bodies came back to us since one of them had enough energy to press his amulet, which brought them back to the Britlingen Collective. We three came to retrieve the last two. One of them is dead. The other hangs in the air behind us.” She didn’t turn to look, but she knew Geit was still turning in the air.
“You are invaders, out to abduct our mage and take him away,” the woman said.
“Then who set off the beacon? Of course we assumed whoever was here was ready to come home,” Vandler said rather crossly. He was not even looking at the woman, because he was intent on healing the gash. The sleeve of his robe was blood-soaked.
Vandler didn’t realize, but Batanya did, that everyone in the war party was staring at him. After a couple of minutes, during which time the gash disappeared, the silence penetrated his spell-casting, and he raised his head to look around him inquiringly.
The tall woman said, “You are a mage who can heal wounds?” She was staring at Vandler with hungry eyes. “You are a Britlingen, though?”
Vandler, surprised, said, “Yes, all that.”
Things were moving well, Batanya thought, but Clovache had had all she could stand. She was looking back at Geit and her face was stripped down to basic emotion. She decided to hurry things along, since Clovache would not be able to remain calm for much longer. “Lady, I am Batanya, a leader of the Britlingens who fight. This is Clovache, a fighter too. The mage is Vandler. He is a great healer. If you will let Geit go, we would like to get him down.”
The woman glanced down at her son, who nodded mutely.
“My name is Perro.” The boy inclined his head toward the tall woman. “Marla, my mother.”
Exchanging names seemed to seal the deal on Coturigo. Marla twisted her fingers curiously and Geit dropped abruptly to the ground. Clovache sprang to him and crouched down.
“How is he?” Batanya asked, turning her head slightly to be sure Clovache heard her. The woman might have made a promise, but she wanted to keep her own eyes on the situation.
“Far from well,” Clovache said, a savage edge to her voice. “We need to avenge Geit and leave this place.” She sounded angry.
“The woman released Geit from the magic,” Batanya said. “Willingly.”
“Yes, First.” Clovache didn’t say that with any enthusiasm or regret, but she said it.
Vandler stepped back from the boy, who had come close to Vandler to stare at his non-existent wound. “Like it was never there,” Perro said to Vandler, admiringly.
“Yes.” Vandler sounded calm, assured, but he looked exhausted.
“Vandler, evaluate Geit,” Batanya said. “Sit beside him.”
Vandler gave her a grateful look before doing his best to walk briskly to Geit’s side. He sank down on the grass to examine the mercenary carefully. Combat and healing had taken their toll onthe mage, but he was doing his best to conceal that. Batanya approved highly.
